


Forget Football

by football83



Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 05:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14037552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/football83/pseuds/football83
Summary: José asks Pep to The Lowry Hotel, it's been a while..





	1. Chapter 1

Pep’s knuckles softly wrapped at the modern black glass of José’s hotel suite door, he felt honoured at the invite - especially considering The Lowry Hotel’s reputation for being swarmed with media. José had advised him to use the service entrance, and he’d done as he was told, if anyone knew the press - it was José. 

“Come in, come in” José said as he enthusiastically opened the door and ushered in the younger, taller, slimmer man. 

“Drink?” he asked, but was already pouring Pep a glass of Portuguese Red. 

Pep’s eyes twinkled at the modernity of his suite, sleek and sharp lines, masculine greys and navy blues and just one area in the main living quarters that was home to his work stuff. Other than this small pile of papers, a few books, his iPad and iPhone you’d never know José lived there. 

They sat on the enormous sofa, a few feet away. José had absentmindedly dimmed the lights, he was feeling uncharacteristically self conscious given his lack of sleep, he shouldn’t have done of course - Pep really didn’t care about superficial stuff like that when it came to José. 

“You look good” José said softly, eyes gazing across his established beard and down his lithe body “Tanned” 

Pep smiled handsomely “Dubai was good to me” 

“Dubai is good to everyone” José retorted with a short, sharp laugh - his pale features focusing in on Pep again. 

“How are you doing?” Pep asked, full of concern “Is tough at the minute, no?” 

José tipped his head backwards and let it rest on the sofa cushion, he exhaled loudly and allowed more wine to coat his tongue. They knew each other too well for lies or pride, so José admitted it, “Tough…is an understatement” 

Pep placed his wine glass on the table and shifted his body closer towards him, “Last season it was me José, can’t do right for doing wrong, criticism after criticism… wears you out” 

José turned his face to Pep’s, “Remember at Barcelona…” he began and Pep crossed one long leg under the other as he got comfortable for this trip down memory lane, “How I was your number one cheer leader….” 

José rested his chin in his hand as Pep listened, “You were the most beautiful player I’d seen in my life Josep, such personality, skill… such tenacity” 

Pep blushed a little, even now hearing José tell him what a fantastic player he was made his heart want to burst out of his chest, “You came to me for advice, about your career, going into coaching…” José paused when Pep’s index and middle fingers dragged slowly down his stubbly face, his whole hand then cupping the side of his face tightly, “José…” Pep said deeply, “I owe it to you….” 

José felt a twinge in his groin when Pep said that and he coughed to try and deflect the issue, Pep had noticed the bulge starting to form sometime before but like so many elephants in the room didn’t mention it, “When did you last get laid?” he asked, with all the seriousness in the world.

José didn’t flinch, but the corners of his mouth formed into a sly smirk “Around about the time you last had hair Josep” 

Pep’s eyes creased as he too smiled, “C’mon” he said, standing up and towering over his older cohort, “Let’s forget football for one night”


	2. Chapter 2

No one kissed like José. Not Luis, not even Tito and it pained him to even think that of his dear and departed friend. José had a way of kissing him that made him feel all the right emotions - safety, security, trust but just as you settled into it he’d unleash some manner of filthy lick, bite or suck that made you grit your teeth with animalistic lust.

Pep and Luis’s relationship had been destined for failure since the beginning, Pep always wondered if José manufactured it at Barcelona in the first place, to get the two men to focus properly rather than constantly concerned with petty jealousies of who was sleeping with who. José had his triangle at Barcelona and it ran like clockwork, he didn’t often think of those days - only really when he and Pep were alone together like this and with the pressures of modern football this was next to never.

“You think Luis will come to manage in England?” José had offered as post-sex pillow talk, Pep’s glare told him this was a no-go area, this intrigued him but he parked it, for now. 

Getting into José’s bed in Manchester felt like a milestone of sorts, José hadn’t been lying when he said the last time he’d experienced sex with another man was with Pep back in Spain all those years ago, he’d married Tami, had the kids and they’d drifted apart. He’d had the odd fling but nothing emotional or stable, “As satisfying as always José” Pep had whispered into his neck igniting a loud snort in response “As good as your young new boys hmm?” 

Pep had sat up, puppy dog eyes reflecting a slight sadness as he brushed José's messy silver hair behind his ears tenderly “You know the answer to that…” 

30 Minutes Before….

“Your zip José, your zip” Pep had fumbled with his jeans in the dark, the unfamiliar surroundings of José’s bedroom rendering him momentarily blind and concerned José’s zip was perilously close to the vital goods, “Relax” the Portuguese man said firmly, the lights coming on and then dimming to set the mood just so. 

José laughed hoarsely at Pep’s flustered face and the shakiness of his hands, “Well excuse me for not wanting you to lacerate your own cock José” he spat, the unrest in his voice palpable. 

The two men met in the middle of the bedroom, José the first to unfurl Pep’s belt and take hold of his slim hips, “Still so fit…” he remarked as his trousers fell to the ground around his ankles, Pep gasped in through his teeth as José caressed him through his boxer shorts. 

“You’ve been hard since the second I got here José, is this why?” Pep asked with pure arrogance as he pulled the expensive wool sweater over his head to reveal his toned, slim chest and stomach. 

José stepped back and didn’t stop staring at Pep for a second as he undressed, he followed Pep’s eyes as his trousers fell, followed by his boxers and finally his tight fitting monogrammed kit polo shirt “Now who’s hard?” he asked with a raise of the eyebrows signalling at the enormous lump in Pep’s pants. 

José was always the one in control, but Pep didn’t care about that today, he was the younger man, the one who needed teaching, guiding, advising, it took some getting used to when it extended into the bedroom, being bossed around on the football pitch was one thing, but having José bark orders at him in bed had been difficult to take in the past. 

Luckily, for their big reunion both men were free and shared the control in equal measures and once the initial fraught and frenzied expulsion of lost time caught up with them they eased into familiarity. 

***  
“Let’s not leave it so long next time, agreed?” Pep asked as he pulled his jeans back on, the spring in his step noticeable as they both left José’s bedroom.

“You can stay you know” José offered, tying his dressing gown at the waist as he followed Pep out into the hallway. 

“Talk about old times some more? I can’t José, I have to think of the future” Pep said, looping his belt back through his jeans “But thank you for the offer” 

José crossed his arms as he leant against the kitchen work top, “Seems fitting that you’ll secure the league against my team doesn’t it?” 

Pep licked his lips, so much for forgetting about football, “Fitting?”

“I’ll be happy for you, you do know that?” 

Pep placed his arms around José’s shoulders “Just like all those times I was happy for you then hmm?” 

“And if Luis does come here?” José questioned again, the idea niggling at the back of his mind.

Pep took a step back “Luis will never be the great José Mourinho, no matter how hard he tries” 

“Congratulations Josep” José said, patting him on the shoulder before asking him to let himself out.


End file.
